How things are much awaited in life, and that time you spend waiting is the longest in your life. And that’s when you feel this life will ultimately never end. In tirupur life has become a perpetual “wait”. I wait for everything around here. I guess the waiting arises from the previously mentioned boredom (*read my other posts for reference)
This promises to be a boring piece for sure.
So, like I was saying… my life has become a perpetual “wait”.
This promises to be a boring piece for sure.
So, like I was saying… my life has become a perpetual “wait”.
I wait for everything around here. Wait for buses in the morning, buses in the evening. For the first bell in the morning, then for the bell for lunch. For beginning to understand the language so you may converse… I wait for the 6 o’ clock bell to go back home. I wait for the weekends on the weekdays and vice versa. I wait for the weekend to Bangalore and wait to go back to Delhi. Wait for phone calls, that were supposed to be, or for phone calls that I don't want. I just wait and wait for sleep to come over, sometimes at 3 or at 4, I have stopped expecting for that now. I wait, wait, wait… and that’s all that is there to it. There is nothing else to do. Watching TV is mega monotony. Just how many times can I laugh at random Disney shows? For some reason I can’t read anymore either. I just can’t focus on the flow of words. I read on for 3 pages and realize that I do not really know what happened so far. I just know there are words, words which make no sense.
There is a sense of loss somewhere. As if something has been taken away, when I wasn’t looking. I waste awful amount of time not knowing why or what I was thinking. Does it all make sense? Not particularly, even to me. I guess in some random way I feel like detaching myself from everything. Hate every thing around me. It’s getting suffocating out here. I want to scream, cry, hit something, and break something. Or be held tight and told everything’s gonna be ok… and this is the time I realize why people can’t live in isolation. You can’t hug yourself. You can’t reassure yourself. You can survive in isolation. You can’t live.
How utterly ridiculous is this whole exercise. Learning how to live alone… why the hell would anyone want to do that? What is the point of earning money and living in nothingness? And here I am earning nothing either. All such a waste of time. I feel like Joey, when Chandler shifts into Monica’s flat. “I am a lone wolf… ‘Lone’… ‘All alone’… ‘ALONE…’ WHAT DOES ONE DO TO GET A HUG AROUND HERE!!!?”
There is a sense of loss somewhere. As if something has been taken away, when I wasn’t looking. I waste awful amount of time not knowing why or what I was thinking. Does it all make sense? Not particularly, even to me. I guess in some random way I feel like detaching myself from everything. Hate every thing around me. It’s getting suffocating out here. I want to scream, cry, hit something, and break something. Or be held tight and told everything’s gonna be ok… and this is the time I realize why people can’t live in isolation. You can’t hug yourself. You can’t reassure yourself. You can survive in isolation. You can’t live.
How utterly ridiculous is this whole exercise. Learning how to live alone… why the hell would anyone want to do that? What is the point of earning money and living in nothingness? And here I am earning nothing either. All such a waste of time. I feel like Joey, when Chandler shifts into Monica’s flat. “I am a lone wolf… ‘Lone’… ‘All alone’… ‘ALONE…’ WHAT DOES ONE DO TO GET A HUG AROUND HERE!!!?”
the pik is of skies behind the office whilst i walk back everyday
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